The Brightest Witch Of Her Age - Year 1
by hermione3luna3ginny
Summary: What if? What if Hermione was the heroine of the Harry Potter series? What if she was a Ravenclaw, Ron a Hufflepuff, and Harry a Slytherin? What if she fell in love with Fred, Draco, even Cedric? This is a journey of ambition, generosity, intelligence, and courage, intermingled with friends, laughs, and love. It is the journey of the brightest witch of her age: Hermione Granger.
1. The Unusual Occurrences

Updating as regularly as possible!

Disclaimer: as much as I wish, none of the recognizable characters are mine. This is my first story... do read and review! Can you spot the 'cameo shots'?

Mr. and Mrs. Granger, of Burrington Road number 24, were surprised-and proud-to be the parents of a witch. They hadn't expected it, of course, because they were very respectable, normal people, but that did not mean that they disapproved of their daughter's magical nature. On the contrary, they liked oddities and unusual mysteries.

The Grangers were both dentists. Mr. Granger was the chief dentist at Granger Dentistry and Orthodontics, that, needless to say, dealt with teeth, unwilling teenagers who didn't want braces, and, unfortunately, a couple who never brushed their teeth, but instead ate burnt toast that they claimed was good for their teeth. Apparently it wasn't, because every time they came to the dental office, they had to get crowns, or fillings, or some other painful intervention in their mouth. Mr. Granger was a very skinny man, with salt-and-pepper hair and a small beard, carefully trimmed. Mrs. Granger had a small dentist office at home, which catered to children. She was quite pretty, although her brown hair was very bushy. She spent most of her time dealing with screaming children, screaming toddlers, and bored babies, which eventually led to screaming babies.

The Grangers had a little girl, named Hermione, and they loved her dearly.

They had everything that they could wish for, and yet they still weren't happy: they didn't want to be monotonous. They couldn't bear that their family was unique, yet not very unusual. But like all families, they had one secret: they were related to the unlikeable, prejudiced Dursley family. Mrs. Granger's maiden name had been Potter, and her brother, James, had married Lily Evans, who's sister, Petunia, had married Vernon Dursley.

The Dursleys were the embarrassment of the family, and therefore they were never mentioned. Once a year, however, out of pure courtesy, they went to see them. They hated having to do that, especially since the last times that they had made this family visit, the Potters hadn't come. Mr. Granger had decided that, if the Potters didn't come this time, there would be no use for these family reunions, and that would be the end of it. Mrs. Granger agreed wholeheartedly. They knew that the Dursleys had a little son named Dudley, of all names, around one year old, and so did the Potters, but lately they hadn't heard much from the latters, so they couldn't really know. They were pretty sure he was called Harry, but it might have been Harvy, or Henry, too.

One cloudy morning, as Mr. Granger searched for his toothbrush while choosing his socks (he couldn't decide between green-and-red plaid or green-and-orange stripes), and Mrs. Granger fed little Hermione while distractedly rattling off the preliminary signs of a light-moderate gum disease, something extremely unusual happened: an owl flew by the window. Mr. Granger smiled and looked up, saying, "Oh, an owl in the daytime! How peculiar!"

"I suppose he just wants to stand out out from his peers," Mrs. Granger commented.

"Or maybe he's protesting against the owl tradition of sleeping during the day," joked her husband.

"Maybe," Mrs. Granger agreed, laughing.

Mr. Granger glanced at the clock. "Dear me!" he said. "I'll be late!" He grabbed his briefcase, and after pecking Mrs. Granger on the cheek and ruffling Hermione's hair, he rushed out the door. "See you later!" he shouted.

He walked down the road to the nearest bus stop, noting as he went past that a cat was looking at the bus schedule. He smiled to himself. He could already tell that this day was going well. The bus came at that moment, he got on it and punched his ticket. He saw that there were a few people who were trying to figure out how to punch their ticket, and he helped them, noting as he did so that they were dressed rather strangely, wearing some sort of cloak. He didn't mind; everybody had the right to dress as they wished, as long as their clothes didn't disturb or show disrespect to others, as he always said. Mr. Granger arrived at the dental office in an excellent mood.

His morning was remarkable. Apart from his usual things, such as lecturing the aforementioned elderly couple on the fact that burnt toast was not good for their teeth, applying braces to unwilling teenagers, and cleaning his client's teeth, he saw that there were an abundant amount of owls that swooped by his window. "The protest against daytime sleeping hours must have many participants," he thought, chuckling to himself.

At noon, he looked at his schedule and saw that he didn't have another appointment till three o'clock, so he decided to go for a little walk and maybe get something to eat. As he waited at an intersection, he found himself standing next to a group of those people dressed in cloaks. As he waited for the light to turn green, he overheard fragments of what they were saying.

"Exactly, the Potters, that's what I heard...", said one.

"...Yes, but their son, Harry..." replied a woman with bright red hair, who was wearing a maroon-colored cloak.

He crossed the street, suddenly anxious. Suppose something had happened to the Potters?Then he turned around, and jogged across the street and down the road to his office. There, he grabbed the telephone and started to dial his wife's number. "She should know about this," he thought. "She loves her brother a lot, even though she hasn't seen him for a few years."

Then he stopped himself. He was being a fool. Surely there were other people named Potter with a son called Harry. And besides, how could he know for sure that the son's name was Harry? It could have been Harold, for all he knew. It was probably a false alarm. He certainly didn't want to worry his wife.

That afternoon, though, he was still preoccupied. As he walked out the door, he bumped straight into a man with a green bowler. He, too, was wearing a cloak.

"Sorry!" Mr Granger said.

"Oh, no, sir!", the man replied heartily. "For You-Know-Who has gone at last, and even Muggles like yourself should be rejoicing on this wonderful, wonderful day!". The man then hugged him and went off, skipping down the road.

Mr. Granger stared after him, then shrugged, making a mental note to ask his brainy wife what 'Muggle' meant.

As he stepped of the bus, he noticed a rat scurry along the sidewalk. It dove into the bushes. Mr. Granger looked at the bus schedule, and when he looked back again, there was a short man with one of those cloaks where the rat had been. He reminded Mr. Granger strangely of the rat, but he didn't dwell on it further, as the bus had just arrived.

Mr. Granger entered his home, deciding that he wouldn't mention the Potters for the time being. Mrs. Granger didn't notice anything strange in his behavior; she chattered merrily through dinner, telling her husband about her day and about Hermione's new phrase (I want book!).

After Hermione had been put to bed, Mr. Granger went into the living room with a book entitled 'Hilarious Dentistry Stories: When Orthodontics Are Entertaining'. Mrs. Granger was already seated, reading a voluminous book that she had started that day over mid-morning snack.

Mr. Granger turned on the television, to listen to the news for a few minutes before he continued his reading.

A blond reporter standing in front of a screen was saying,"... Bird watchers all over the country have been highly flabbergasted today. Although owls usually sleep during the daytime, this morning a large quantity of owls were seen flying through London and the rest of England, as well as some sightings in Scotland, Galles, and Wales.".

Mr. Granger switched over to the weather channel.

"Well, folks," a young lady in a shocking pink tuxedo said, "Instead of the rain I promised yesterday, there seems to be a shower of shooting stars. Bonfire Night's not until next week, you know!"

Mr. Granger shut the television off.

Mrs. Granger took a sip of her tea. "What is it, Robert?", she said, noticing his disturbed expression.

Mr. Granger gulped. "Well, dear," he began, " You haven't heard anything from your brother lately, have you?"

His wife looked concerned. "No," she replied. "Why?"

"Oh, just asking," Mr. Granger replied casually. Then he continued, "The son, he'd be about the same age as Hermione now, wouldn't he?"

Mrs. Granger shook her head. "Well, I think that he's actually almost a year younger than Hermione. His name's Harry, I believe."

"Nice name," Mr. Granger said, feeling that he had to say something.

"Yes, it's a nice name," Mrs. Granger agreed, before diving into her book.

Later that night, Mr. Granger sat on his bed, worrying. Were the Potters all right? He had an unfortunate sensation that they weren't. He decided to go outside to clear his thoughts. Once outside, he sat down on the little rickety garden bench, under a large bush.

Suddenly, two ladies appeared at the end of the street, almost as if they had popped out of thin air. They both wore cloaks: one was short and stout, and wore earthy green robes, while the other seemed older; she had silky gray hair and was dressed in what appeared to be nurse's clothes from the 1800's.

Mr. Granger was rather unnerved; he sensed that these women had powers that he did not. He stayed hidden behind the bush, shifting slightly so that he was in the shadow. The pair sat down on the low garden wall that surrounded the Granger garden, and one of them pulled a stick out of her pocket. Instantly, a small table laden with cakes appeared. Mr. Granger rubbed his eyes. "I must be dreaming," he thought. "Any moment now I'll wake up.".

"Well," said the elderly lady, "At last we have a little peace and quiet."

"In more ways than one," agreed her companion, taking a crumpet.

"Such celebrations, Poppy!", the other woman replied. "Did you see the fireworks show that old Dedalus set off? It was smashing!"

"No, I didn't," said the stout one. "I was back in Greengrove, my old town, you know, celebrating with my family. My word, the amount of food that was made, it probably beat the End of Year Feast!"

"Did it, Pomona dear?", said Poppy. There was clearly something else she wished to talk about, something that had been on her mind. She added, "I suppose You-Know-Who has finally gone? The Muggles haven't discovered us?"

When Pomona nodded her head, she said, "It all seems too good to be true!"

"You know, even now that he's gone, I believe that I'll never be able to call him by his true name," said Pomona.

"Neither shall I," agreed Poppy. "Only Albus was ever able to call him anything else.".

"We all know that You-Know-Who was afraid of him," whispered Pomona.

"Yes," concurred Poppy. "Albus always says that You-Know-Who had powers that he would never have, but that's only because he is too noble to use them.".

"Indeed," said Pomona. Then she said in an undertone she added, "I suppose that you know what people have been saying? About what finally stopped him?"

"Well," Poppy said slowly, "What I've heard is that...is that You-Know-Who went to find the Potters and, well, he killed Lily and James.". She sobbed quietly. "They were such a nice couple ...but that's not what most people are talking about. They say that he tried to kill their little boy, Harry, but he couldn't manage it. Somehow, he just couldn't."

"I know," said Pomona softly. "I was friends with Lily, during our school days. Such a wonderful girl, and James was a wonderful man as well." She then continued, "It's amazing, I have to say, that a little boy could defeat him. Speaking of which, what will become of him?".

"Albus told me that he has some relatives who will to take him in," said Poppy. "I have the sensation that there was some very calculated reasoning behind his decision.".

"I see," Pomona said, clearly relieved. "Well, Albus knows best, I suppose.".

"In that case," Poppy exclaimed, "Why don't we have a toast?"

Both of them raised their teacups and proclaimed, "To Harry Potter, the boy who lived!"

With that, they disappeared, pastries and all.

Mr. Granger stood up shakily. "This must be a dream," he thought again. "Yes, that's it. I'm just imagining this because I'm worried about the Potter family. They're probably sound and safe in their beds now." He stood up and let himself into the house, went up the stairs and climbed into bed.


	2. Hermione's Best Birthday

Updating often!

I hope you like Chapter 2 - read and review! Hey, that rhymes.

Disclaimer: if you recognize something, it's not mine.

Many years had passed since that unusual day. From the outside, the house looked the same, with the same bushes and garden bench, the same low wall and the same rows of vegetables. Really, only the interior showed how much time had passed. While before there were photos of a small toddler, now there were photos of a girl with bushy hair, showing her reading, writing, being hugged by her father and kissed by her mother.

One morning, Mrs. Granger crept into her daughter's room, and sat on the edge of her daughter's bed. She shook Hermione gently, saying, "Good morning, dearest! It's time to get up now. Happy birthday!"

Hermione slowly awoke, rubbing her eyes. How could she have forgotten? Today was her 11th birthday! She couldn't wait to be able to claim the title of oldest of the class, once she came back to school on Monday; Hermione could be a little competitive when she was excited. Although it was only the beginning of September, she was already 11, way before her stuck-up, nasty classmates!

Mrs. Granger made her way to the kitchen to check on the waffles, while her daughter climbed out of bed and skipped down the stairs. There were some rectangular presents waiting for her on the kitchen table: books, no doubt, and perhaps a notebook or two for her stories.

Mr. Granger was already seated at the table, drinking his morning coffee. "Happy birthday, Hermione," he said.

Hermione rushed over to give him a hug, then, noticing the presents on the table, she exclaimed, "Thank you!", and ran to give her mother a hug as well.

Mrs. Granger slid the plates of waffles onto the table, and the family contentedly started eating.

Hermione sat down in the armchair and began to read one of the books that had been give to her. It was about an extremely intelligent girl named Matilda, who could read adult books at the age of four. At the age of six, she had such a powerful mind that she could move things by just staring at them. Hermione looked up. "I'd love to be able to do that," she thought.

She stared intently at the silver tintype on the mantelpiece, lost in her imagination. She thought, for a moment, that one of them had just moved a bit, but she couldn't be sure. She stared harder. Wait - was that what she thought it was - one of the tintypes had just scooted to the right. She tried again. Now another one had moved all the way to the end. Hardly daring to breathe, she tried again. It worked!

After a little while, she had managed to move all the tintypes around on the mantelpiece, and even had a few fly over others to reach their designated spot. Come to think of it, she wasn't at all surprised. She had had a few other extraordinary experiences like this before. For example, once when some mean schoolgirls had cut off chunks of her hair, teasing her about it's bushiness, she had found her hair growing back right before her eyes. Or another time, when she was quite little and had wet her pants at school, the nurse had given her some extremely ugly skirts from the lost-and-found, she discovered that her pants had become perfectly clean in a matter of minutes, without being washed at all. And not to mention when she flew over the school buildings, out of the reach of some class bullies who were chasing her. Yes, unfortunately Hermione was bullied quite a bit at school, because of her excellent scores and her love for learning. She just couldn't help it: her mind absorbed knowledge like a sponge soaks up water.

The sound of a letter hitting the doormat interrupted her thoughts. A few moments later, somebody knocked on the door.

Hermione picked up the letter, and then opened the door a crack. The man standing at the doorstep was the most peculiar one that she had ever seen: he had a sweeping violet cloak, bright green pants, caramel-colored shoes, and a teal top hat. He looked down at her and smiled.

"Hello," Hermione said timidly. "Do you wish to see my parents?"

"No, actually," he said pleasantly. "I wish to see you.". His tone was so warm and friendly that Hermione instinctively knew that he was not someone to be feared.

"Very well," she answered politely. "How may I help you?"

"Oh, you don't need to worry about helping me," he responded, with a twinkle in his eye. "I'd just like you listen to what I have to say.".

"Alright," agreed Hermione. "Why don't you come in?"

"Thank you," said the man, as he stepped in.

Mrs. Granger stepped into the hall. "Hello," she said politely.

The man tipped his hat towards her. "Please forgive me for intruding," he said. "I wish to communicate something to you on behalf of the government.".

Mrs. Granger paled slightly. "Make yourself at home," she said, indicating the living room. "Would it be best if I called my husband?".

"Yes," the man said, nodding. "Your daughter should remain, however. This meeting concerns her quite personally, you see.".

"Of course," Mrs. Granger said, although one could sense her unasked questions. She hurried from the room. A minute later she came back with her husband in tow, and the couple joined Hermione and their visitor in the living room.

The man cleared his throat nervously. "My name is Bobby Bopkin, and, well… let's see now - where to start - it's my first time on the job, you see. I suppose I won't beat around the bush, best to know sooner rather than later. Anyways, to put it, ehm, simply, I've come to offer a unique educational experience for your young girl. The Ministry, or rather, my Ministry, has had their eye on her for a long time." Here he paused for a moment, looking worriedly at the Grangers' bewildered faces, then pressed on. "You see, well, to put it bluntly… your daughter here, she has magical blood in her veins… in other words, she is a witch. Bit of a shock, I know; just don't say anything yet, I haven't quite finished. Now, she's not the kind of witch that you might imagine, for in the society that I - and your daughter- belong to, 'witch' is simply the feminine form of 'wizard', and not used to portray a terrifying sorceress. Of course, your daughter has not yet learned to control and use these powers, and so I, on the behalf of the Board of Magical Education, ask you for permission to send your daughter to a magical boarding school. It is not far from here - only an afternoon's worth of a train ride, and the students, fear not, communicate regularly with their parents. The school would be her home for the next seven school years, where she will be challenged appropriately, while developing her extraordinary gifts," he concluded. "That is, if you accept."

Mr. Granger eyed the odd man suspiciously but good-naturedly. "How can we be sure that you really are a - I assume - a wizard?"

"Easy enough to prove," Mr. Bopkin replied, standing up. He turned smartly on his heel and vanished into thin air. Just a few moments later, he reappeared. "Anticipating your next question, sir, I assure you that Hogwarts is as real as you yourselves are." The wizard gave three small flicks if his wand, directing it in turn at each of the Grangers, as if to punctuate this thought.

"I think that we would like some time to talk this over amongst ourselves," said Mrs. Granger.

"Of course," Mr. Bobkin assured them. "I understand that this news can be hard to digest.".

When the Granger family reentered the living room some time later, it was Hermione who spook first. "We have decided," she proclaimed, her eyes shining. "I shall go.".

Mr. Bopkin smiled. "I'm very proud of you for making the right decision," he said. "Now, I'd like you to open the letter. It's for you.".

Only then did Hermione realize that she was still clutching the letter tightly in her hand. She placed it on her lap. The envelope seemed to be made of some sort of parchment, by the feel of it. There was a purple court of arms sealing it, showing a badger, a lion, an eagle and a serpent. Underneath was a waving banner that said 'Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus'. On the other side was her address written in green ink:

Miss H. Granger

Burrington Road 24

East Putney

London

She opened it carefully, trying not to rip the beautiful paper. She pulled out another piece of parchment and read:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Miss Granger,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall,

Deputy Headmistress

There was another piece of parchment in the envelope, which Hermione pulled out as well and read, fascinated:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

UNIFORM

First-year students will require:

1\. Three (3) sets of plain work robes (black)

2\. One (1) plain pointed hat (black) for day wear

3\. One (1) pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

4\. One (1) winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags.

COURSE BOOKS

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk

A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot

Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling

A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch

One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore

Magical Draughts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander

The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble

OTHER EQUIPMENT

One (1) wand

One (1) cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

One (1) set glass or crystal phials

One (1) telescope

One (1) set brass scales

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

Mr. Bopkin cleared his throat. "Now," he said a little nervously. "If the kind sir here would just fetch a bit of money, I suppose we could - ehm - go and buy your daughter's school supplies."

Mr. Granger went to his wallet, took out some papers bills, and came back.

"Very well," Mr. Bopkin said. "If you wouldn't mind, madam, if you could just hold my hand for a moment, and, Miss Granger, I'd like you to take hold of my other one… sir, please grasp on to the kind madam's. Very well now, it will all be over in just a second."

"What, sir," queried Mr. Granger a little anxiously, "will be over in just a second?"

"Oh, I'm going to Apparate you," said Mr. Bopkin. "But don't worry, it doesn't hurt a bit.".

The Grangers had barely enough time to wonder what 'Apparate' meant when they suddenly found themselves in a busy little street, with quaint shops lining each side of it. Many men, women, and children, dressed in the same manner as Mr. Bopkin, were bustling about, peering in through the shop windows and rummaging through their bags.

"Welcome," said Mr. Bopkin, "To Diagon Alley!".

"I don't believe that I've heard of the place," commented Mrs. Granger cautiously.

"Oh, no," said Mr. Bopkin. "It isn't on any of the maps of, ehm, non-wizarding people. Now, first stop, Gringotts Bank!".

Across the street from them was a rickety old building, with big bronze doors and lots of windows. The Grangers and Mr. Bopkin entered the building and came out into a large marble hall. All along, there were counters with little odd men (goblins, as Hermione later learned) puttering about. Mr. Bopkin took a step forward and approached one of them cautiously. He tugged on his tie and then said, "I would like to make a currency exchange, please."

The goblin peered down at him and asked, "Muggle money to wizarding kind, I suppose?".

"Indeed," replied Mr. Bopkin.

"Very well," the goblin said curtly. "The money, if you please.".

Mr. Bopkin took the money from Hermione's father and handed it over to the goblin, who meticulously counted out portions of gold, silver, and bronze coins. He handed them over to Mr. Granger and the party of four was once again on its way.

"Now, I believe," said Mr. Bopkin once they were back in the glaring sunlight, "It's time to get the little missy here her school uniform."

They walked inside a small little shop, where a bustling witch wearing all mauve fitted Hermione for her work robes, hat, and cloak. She also directed them to some racks where they purchased school blouses, Mary Janes, checkered socks, and several gray skirts. Fifteen minutes later, they were out the door, laden down with parcels filled to the brim with various articles of clothing.

The next shop they visited was Hermione's favorite - a quaint bookshop, with volumes stacked in the shelves that went from floor to ceiling. All the books were carefully bound with leather covers, coupled with beautiful engravings on the fronts. They had the most peculiar titles, and Hermione would have wanted to read them all, but unfortunately they had not the money for such things, as Mrs. Granger sorrowfully said, so the wide-eyed girl managed to narrow her selection down to twenty-three books plus the ones required for the school year.

As they walked out of the shop, Hermione happily exclaimed, "I can't wait to read them all!"

After the bookshop, the Grangers and Mr. Bopkin went to a peculiar little place - so small that it could hardly be called a proper shop. They bought a cauldron, some scales and a pocket telescope from a wizened old man, who was at a table banging away at some iron. After that, they went around the block to the Apothecary, a bad-smelling store where thousands of jars were placed all along the teetering shelves, each with their own faded label. They were perched so precariously on every single surface that Hermione dared not advance any further into the shop than the doorway, which also helped to stay away from the smell. Mr. Bopkin, on the other hand, didn't seem to mind, seeing that he went up to the counter and bought some potion supplies for Hermione as he chatted amiably with the shopkeeper.

Once they were out into the fresh air once again, Mr. Bopkin said to Mr. Granger, "I think that we should go and get a pet for your daughter now, shouldn't we?"

"Of course," replied Mr. Granger. "It is necessary for school, I'm guessing?"

"Well," said Mr. Bopkin slowly, adjusting his collar, "It is highly recommended to bring an owl. For mail, and such."

The Granger couple was a little skeptical about the notion of having an owl for a pet, but at the end they relented, and fifteen minutes later Hermione came skipping out of the owl shop with a silver-colored owl in a cage swinging from one hand and a large tome on the etmology and meanings of owl names tucked under her arm.

There was only one thing left on the list of school supplies: Hermione's wand. Mr. Bopkin guided them down the street until they came to a store on the corner. Above the door was an antique-looking sign that read, 'Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.'.

Mr. Bopkin pushed open the rusty door and stepped inside, followed by the Grangers. Hermione looked around. The walls were lined with thousands and thousands of little boxes - but before she could investigate further, an elderly man peeked out from below the counter. "Mr. Bopkin," he cried out jovially, "I see you have brought some new customers with you. Muggles, I presume?"

"Indeed, Mr. Ollivander," replied Mr. Bopkin. "Hermione Granger, is the name.". He gestured for Hermione to step forward.

Hermione did so, timidly shaking Mr. Ollivander's hand. "How do you do?" she said politely.

"Very well, thank you," said Mr. Ollivander, with a twinkle in his eye. Then he continued, "Your writing hand, please."

Hermione held out her right hand, a little apprehensively. Mr. Ollivander took a measuring tape and started measuring her arm. He went a little ways off, rummaging through the boxes as the measuring tape continued to spread itself along Hermione's arm, hand, and wrist. Finally, Mr. Ollivander snapped his fingers and the measuring tape flew back into his pocket. He pulled a slim stick - a wand, Hermione realized suddenly - and handed it over to her. "Wave it," he instructed.

Hermione waved it around, not expecting much; but suddenly, the shop was illuminated by a bright, sparkling light, a sort of mixture of blue and gold and silver. Hermione looked wide-eyed at Mr. Ollivander, who had dropped down into a chair. "My, my, my, my," he said, shaking his head incredulously. "It is rare, extremely rare, that one finds his or her wand so quickly. It happens only to the most intellectual and the most extraordinary. Your life will be quite unusual, dear," he then added, looking at Hermione.

Mr. Bopkin seemed at a loss as to what to say. After an uncomfortable pause, he said, " Ehm, I suppose that we pay for the missy's wand and then we depart. It is getting late," he commented, looking out the window.

They paid for the wand and then stepped out into the crisp evening. Once again, they all joined hands, and they found themselves right away in the Granger's living room. Mr. Bopkin shook hands with the Granger couple and offered a smile to Hermione, who smiled back. Then, in the blink of an eye, he vanished into thin air.

"Well, dear," said Mr. Granger, slightly embarassed. "Did you have a nice birthday?".

"It was wonderful," replied Hermione truthfully, her eyes sparkling. "Simply wonderful.".


	3. The Beginning

Through the rest of the school year, Hermione read through all the books that she had gotten on her birthday. She wrote stories about the magical world that she had visited. She even drew all the people that she had met. In short, she literally became obsessed with the wizarding community. And of course, she not only read, but reread, re-reread, and re-re-reread each and every book that had been given to her. Not surprisingly, she had memorized all the information in her school materials by the time August rolled around. Almost a year had passed since Mr. Bopkin had come knocking at their door, and Hermione was getting inpatient.

Finally, finally, one sweltering day, a letter arrived. It was addressed to her in the same ink, in the same hand, and had the same crest. Hermione tore it open excitedly. A blood-red slip of paper fell out. Inside the envelope was another slip of paper, that read:

 _HOGWARTS SCHOOL_

 _of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

 _Dear Miss Granger,_

 _Please find your ticket to the Hogwarts Express included with this note. The train will leave at 11.15 A.M., September 1st, from Platform 9 and 3/4, London Central Station._

 _Confirm via owl._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Minerva McGonagall,_

 _Deputy Headmistress_

Hermione squealed with delight and ran to her mother, who was reading in the living room. "Mummy, look!" she cried excitedly. "I've received my ticket to go to Hogwarts!"

"Wonderful!" Mrs. Granger said, overjoyed.

Hermione ran up to her bedroom, grabbed a slip of paper, and wrote:

 _To Ms. McGonagall,_

 _I confirm that I have received the ticket._

 _I look forward to seeing you soon._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Hermione Granger_

Hoping that she hadn't made a wizarding letter-writing etiquette mistake, she gave the letter to her owl (whom she had decided to name Argenta, after much consulting of the etmology manual), and told her to give the letter to the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts. Argenta flew off, flapping her silver wings energetically.

Hermione pulled out a large trunk from under her bed. It had been given to her by her grandmother, many years ago. Hermione opened it. It was packed full with various articles - some baby clothes, Hermione's first short story that she had written, a much worn-out copy of _A Little Princess_ \- in short, a summary of Hermione's childhood.

But now it was time to change. A new era of Hermione's life was beginning, one that was surely going to be better than the last. Hermione pulled out everything that was in the suitcase and slid it under her bed. Slightly misty-eyed, she placed all her school books, her new uniform, several packs of parchment and a few quills, her pajamas, toiletries, and a few outfits for after school and the weekends in the trunk.

Before locking it, she crossed over to her bookshelf and caressed the spines of the novels and picture books alike that she had accumulated over the years. Paying no heed to the tears pricking her eyes, she quickly selected a few, and then turned her back, not wanting to be reminded of the dear friends that she was leaving behind. Shoving the books into the trunk, she rapidly locked it and carried it downstairs, careful not to let it thump against the walls. She positioned it near the entryway, ready for tomorrow.

Hermione woke up before the crack of dawn the next morning. It took her a moment to remember why she was so happy. Then it hit her. Excited, she yawned, then rolled over onto her side to look at the clock. It was still five-thirty in the morning. Definitely too early to get up.

Two hours later, Hermione skipped downstairs, fully dressed with a bubblegum pink cardigan, baby blue blouse (decorated with chocolate brown and fuchsia lace), combined with jeans and her new boots from the local shoe shop. She had fully brushed out her bushy hair, and it was now properly contained, courtesy of a few hairpins borrowed from Mrs. Granger's bathroom cabinet. Hermione sat down at the kitchen table and reached for some jam, spreading it on her toast, and eating it voraciously.

"Good morning, dearest," Mrs. Granger said softly. "Did you sleep at all last night?"

"Yes, some," replied Hermione truthfully.

"That's good," Mrs. Granger murmured distractedly, her eyes focused on a large tome about philosophy. "I don't mean to ignore you, dear, but I'm trying to finish this before we leave - I only have twenty-ish pages left.".

"Of course," said Hermione, who was quite used to her mothers' love for books.

Less then ten minutes afterwards, the Grangers' silver Fiat was chugging merrily along the road, Mrs. Granger's book finished, Hermione's trunk stored in the back, and Mr. Granger's glasses forgotten at home. Thankfully, his wife had the same prescription.

Hermione was still clutching her train ticket in her hand when they arrived at the train station, as if it would fly away at any moment.

"What's the platform number again, darling?" asked Mr. Granger, pushing the trolley along the platforms.

"Platform nine-and-three-quarters," replied Hermione confidently. She had read the ticket again and again since she had received it.

The Grangers came to a stop at below the large sign that read 'Platform 9'. A few feet over, there was another large sign that read 'Platform 10'. No sign of Platform 9 and 3/4.

The Grangers looked around wildly. The guards at the station would probably send them to a mental hospital if the asked them about a train that went to a magic school.

"Look," Hermione shouted all of a sudden. "There's another kid with trunks! And he's heading over here!"

Mr. Granger looked over and saw who his daughter was looking at. Headed towards them was an elderly lady, accompanying a young boy who cradled a toad in his hands.

Mr. Granger approached them nervously. "Hello," he said. "Do happen to know where Platform 9 and 3/4 is?"

The elderly lady's face brightened. "Oh," she replied in a faint voice. "Platform 9 and 3/4, you say? Just through that brick wall between the Platform 9 and Platform 10!"

Then, as the Grangers looked on, bewildered, the lady took the hand of the boy, and saying "Come along, Neville!" she walked calmly through the wall.

"Well," Mrs. Granger said a little shakily, "I guess that the worst thing that could happen to us would be to bump our noses against the wall.".

Mr. Granger nodded. "Let's go," he said weakly. He walked towards the wall, pushing the trolley, and then - poof - he was gone, almost as if he had been sucked up by the wall.

Hermione ran to the other side of the brick divider, but her father wasn't there.

Mrs. Granger took her daughter's hand. "If he made it, we can too," she said. They walked closer and closer to the wall, until they were almost touching it. Then - suddenly - they found themselves standing next to a long, bright read steam engine; with no idea how they could have gotten there. Mrs. Granger and Hermione looked around and located Mr. Granger, who was standing near the elderly lady and the boy named Neville. They reached him, weaving their way between families of children. A whistle blew sharply.

"All aboard, folks!" cried a man, leaning out of the train window. "Train leaves in five minutes!"

"Well, I guess this is goodbye," said Mrs. Granger. She hugged her daughter tightly. "Take care, dear," she whispered. "Have fun at school."

"I'll write you every week," promised Hermione, tears pricking her eyes.

Mr. Granger wrapped his arms around Hermione. "I'll miss you, little bookworm," he said.

"I'll miss you too," she whispered.

The whistle sounded again, high and shrill. Hermione grabbed her trunk and, taking Argenta's cage in her left hand, waved to her parents, and stepped aboard the train.

She lugged her suitcase down the crowded aisle, searching for an empty compartment.

"Excuse me," she said, trying to bypass a small crowd surrounding a boy with dreadlocks. She squeezed past them and continued down the aisle.

Further down the train, Hermione spotted an empty compartment. She pulled her suitcase through the door, and set Argenta's cage down on a seat. Hermione sat down, pulled out a book from her trunk, and began to read.

Many hours later, a jolly-looking lady with twinkling eyes and buttercup colored robes peeked her head into the door. "Anything from the cart, dear?" she asked, gesturing to a cart overflowing with pastries and candies.

"No, thank you," said Hermione politely, remembering that her parents had often told her not to eat candy.

"Well, you can always call me if you change your mind," said the lady, starting to push the cart past the door.

"Do you happen to know what time it is?" asked Hermione.

"Around four o'clock, I'd guess," answered the woman. "We're almost to Hogwarts - you can put your robes on, if you'd like."

Hermione thanked her for her trouble and opened her suitcase to pull out her school uniform. She went into the bathrooms at the back of the train, and changed quickly, twirling in front of the mirror once before pushing open the door.

She was about to slide the door to her compartment open when somebody tapped her shoulder.

It was the boy named Neville who she had seen at the train station. "Have you seen my toad?" he asked tearfully. "I keep losing him!"

Hermione's expression softened. "I haven't, I'm sorry," she said. "He'll turn up, don't worry," she added, offering him a small smile.

Neville sniffed. "Thanks anyway," he said, continuing down the train.

Hermione turned to the compartment next to hers. Perhaps she could help the boy. Sliding open the compartment door, she saw two boys, one with black hair and one with red hair, devouring a mound of candy. Or rather, the black-haired one was doing the devouring, and the redhead was staring wistfully while eating a tuna sandwich. The two looked up as she came in, and the candy eater abruptly stopped talking. The other one looked slightly relieved.

"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one," she said politely.

"We've already told him we haven't seen it," said the dark haired boy. It was then that Hermione noticed that the red haired one held a wand in his hand, pointed toward a rat that lay on his lap.

"Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see it, then," she said, trying to act friendly.

She sat down. The boy looked taken aback. "Er — all right," He cleared his throat, and recited:

 _"_ _Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow,_

 _Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow."_

He waved his wand over the rat in question, but nothing happened. The rat stayed gray and fast asleep.

"Are you sure that's a real spell?" asked Hermione, smiling. "Well, it's not very good, is it? I've tried a few simple spells just for practice and it's all worked for me. Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard — I've learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough — I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?"

The two boys looked at each other, looking stunned.

"I'm Ron Weasley," the orange-haired one muttered.

"Harry Potter," said the other.

"Are you really?" said Hermione, smiling even more. "I know all about you, of course — I got a few extra books for background reading, and you're in _Modern Magical History_ and _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ and _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century_."

"Am I?" said Harry. He looked surprised.

"Goodness, didn't you know, I'd have found out everything I could if it was me," replied Hermione. "Do either of you know what House you'll be in? I've been asking around, and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best; I hear Dumbledore himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad . . . Anyway, I'll be going now. You two had better change, you know, I've been told that we'll be there soon."

Hermione gave them a little smile and closed the door, went back into her compartment and immersed herself in her book once more.

She hadn't been reading for more than a minute when she was interrupted by a yell. Her head jerked up from her book and she dashed outside, just in time to see Harry Potter and a blond boy, along with two heavily built boys flanking them, swagger out of the compartment. From inside it, she heard a stifled sob. Hermione got up and peeked inside the compartment. She was astonished by what she saw.

Ron was crying openly, blubbering even. His face had turned as red as his hair. Hermione stood there for a few moments, unsure of what to do. Finally, she cleared her throat noisily.

The boy looked up, and quickly wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, muttering something about allergies.

Hermione, not wanting to embarrass him further, simply smiled and said in an affectionate tone, "You'd better hurry up and put your robes on, I've asked the trolley lady, and she said we're nearly there. You haven't been fighting, have you? You'll be in trouble before we even get there!"

The boy grunted and asked snappishly, "Would you mind leaving while I change?"

So much for being nice. "No, not at all," Hermione replied curtly. "You've got dirt on your nose, by the way." She turned around and went back into her compartment.

Just as the trolley lady had predicted, in less than five minutes, a voice thundered through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

The train screeched to a stop and shuddered, as if regretting the abrupt end of their voyage. Hermione opened her trunk and took two books out - one for reading, and one if she finished the first one. She glanced at her trunk, regretting to have to leave it on the train and thus out of her control, but decided to go by the rules - after all, first impressions count - and put it on the floor, sticking slightly out of the doorframe so as to be sure that it couldn't be missed. She tucked her books in the ample pockets of her robes and stepped into the rapidly filling corridor.

Slowly but surely, the throng of robed students moved slowly forward, Hermione transported by the flow. After passing a few cabins, she spotted an exit from the train. She ducked out, following a large portion of the other students, and stepped into the cold night air. A large and bushy haired man, a good foot and a half taller than anybody else on the platform was gesticulating wildly at one end of the platform.

"Firs' years! Firs' years over here! All right there, Harry?"

The man's big hairy face beamed over the sea of heads.

Hermione assumed that the Harry in question was the slightly unpleasant Harry Potter she had met on the train. "Well, fame can do that to people," she mused as she fought her way over towards the source of the booming voice. "Apparently this man - practically half the size of a giant, judging from what I've read - is part of the Harry Potter fan base. I think I'll maintain a neutral standing on my inclination to respect him for surviving the Killing Curse and ridding the Wizarding World of Voldemort."

"C'mon, follow me — any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

Hermione dutifully weaved her way over and stood on the outskirts of a small crowd gathered at the feet of the man. He motioned to them to follow him and they did so, stumbling down a steep, dark path. "Some guard rails would be useful here," thought Hermione ruefully.

The pain of having to go down the path was pardoned, however, when the path finally opened up onto a shimmering, ink-black lake. But the lake wasn't the most awe-inspiring part of the view - it was the castle. Perched atop an imposing mountain, a large castle overlooked the lake. In Hermione's opinion, it was more an amass of turrets and towers and stone, all cobbled together into one building.

A fleet of boats were moored at the edge of the lake. Upon their guide's instruction, the soon-to-be students clambered into the boats. Hermione, who had been at the back of the group, found herself in a boat with the boy named Ron, Neville, and a blonde girl with pigtails.

At the man's command, the boats speedily moved forward, slowing only once when they reached a cliff that hung over the lake. In less than two minutes, they had reached the opposite shore. However, they didn't stop - the boats brought them into a well-concealed tunnel that led to an underground docking area. The children disembarked and made their way up to the bottom of a flight of steps. Stopping only briefly to collect Neville's toad (which Hermione noticed and notified their guide, as Neville was nowhere in sight), they reached the top of the steps and awaited for the door there to open.


End file.
